


Orphans

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: The Outer Rim [22]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: Din Djarin and Boba Fett have a discussion by firelight.  Set shortly after the events on Tython.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Series: The Outer Rim [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055645
Comments: 11
Kudos: 112





	Orphans

At least there was this, then, battle: the brutal and elegant dance of blows struck and bolts fired, the song of pumping blood and pounding heart. In this Din could lose himself for a time, his focus shrunk down only to this moment, this second, this _instant_. 

He grunted, taking a blow that rattled his beskar; blocked and parried, shoved back, struck deep with his spear, finished with his fist. Felt the crunch of bone beneath his balled hand, breathed deep of the gasp his enemy huffed into the cold night air. There was safety here in the thin line between victory and defeat, and he leaned into it with every fiber, _muscles heart gut brain_ a singular deadly unit.

And then what he’d been dreading came upon him: the silence, the echoing ring of the final blow. He stood over his fallen opponents, stormtroopers still and broken in the night. Sweat streamed down his face, soaking his collar, slicking the inside of his helmet.

Beside him, Boba Fett slung his gaffe stick over his shoulders, tilting his helmet toward Din. “You do good work, Mandalorian. Pity they had no information for us.”

The adrenaline leached out of him, leaving in its place a humming hollowness. “I knew Gideon would be hard to find,” he said gruffly, disappointment clinging to him as bitterly as the sweat. “I might be able to find another lead. Let’s get back to the ship.”

“Fennec’s taken it for repairs, remember,” said Fett. “Won’t be back for a few hours yet. We may as well find a place to hole up for the night.”

Din sighed. How had he forgotten their earlier discussion? He blinked. Perhaps the lack of sleep was catching up to him. He hadn’t slept for more than broken snatches since Tython. Sleep meant quiet, and quiet meant room to think, and that meant _missing_ him, meant worry, fear, barely-contained panic --

“Fine,” he said. “But we’re gone as soon as the ship is free.”

* * *

The forest was alive and buzzing in the moonlight, creatures singing their night-choruses and buzzing their thoughts into the still spring air. Din ignored them, sitting at the edge of the fire across from Fett. Periodically he lifted his helmet, just slightly, to take a few drinks of water or a bite of the rations Fett had brought along. Fett’s helmet rested on the ground beside his feet, and he ate and drank openly, the shadows on his bare face stark in the firelight.

“So,” said Fett, cocking his head to one side. “Do you have a name?”

Din shrugged.

Fett quirked a brow. “You don’t want to say it? Or you’ve forgotten it?”

“It isn’t necessary.” He relented, Fett’s direct stare boring into him. “Usually people call me Mando.”

“Not exactly a flattering name, especially these days.” Fett shook his head. “I suppose it’s your business. But we might be working together for some time. A name might help.”

Din bristled. “Moff Gideon could be experimenting on the child as we speak. I don’t have the luxury of time.” Anger flared within him, a sick heat in his belly, and his hands tensed into fists at his side.

“I understand,” said Fett. There was an intensity in his naked eyes, a fierceness that left Din taken aback. “There will always be those who play such games.”

“It isn’t a _game_ \-- he could _kill him_ \--” _No, don’t think about that, you’ll find him in time, you_ ** _must_** _\--_

“You misunderstand me,” said Fett, back to being as unemotional as ever. “In battle, sometimes terrible things are done for good reasons. I’m sure you’ve faced this yourself. It comes to all of us in time.” He took a drink of water. “But sometimes there is no battle. Sometimes there are only cowards, doing terrible things without cause, and somehow, they never see themselves the villain.” He fell silent for a moment. “Whatever the Moff is doing to your child, there is no reason for it. I’m sorry.”

The tension in Din’s fists and shoulders faded, dissolving into weariness. _Your child._ He wasn’t -- but wasn’t he? “He’s a foundling,” Din said suddenly. “As I was.”

“As my father was.” Fett gazed into the fire. “This is a galaxy filled with orphans.”

“Yes,” Din agreed, wondering why Fett had said something so obvious. He shook back a flash of red robes, smoke in the streets. “I was to find him a Jedi. They’ll be able to protect him --”

Fett let out a loud, barking laugh. “Jedi! Well. I suppose things may be different, for one of their own. He has their powers?”

“Yes. He can move things with his mind. Heal people. Hurt them.” A dim memory swam before him, the heat of a flamethrower, Grogu standing between him and the flametrooper, casting the fireball back, back. He remembered Cara, her hand scrabbling at her throat over a misunderstanding. “I can’t teach him myself what he needs to learn.”

“The Jedi have no fathers, you know,” said Fett. 

The words settled in beneath Din’s armor, tearing at him. Was this good news, or bad? He swallowed. “Neither do the foundlings.”

“Some of them,” said Fett. “Maybe not yours.” He took another bite of his rations. “But what do I know?”

* * *

Din woke up with a start, his back and shoulders stiff from leaning against a log, his hands reaching up to touch his cuirass, reaching for -- 

But there was no sleepy Grogu nestled against his chest.

He blinked against the sunlight filtering in through his helmet, squinting. Morning. How he had let himself fall asleep?

“Good, you’re up,” said Fett, standing over him helmeted once more. “Fennec is making her way to the rendezvous point now.”

“You should have woken me,” said Din. “I could have kept watch.”

The tone in Fett’s voice suggested an eye roll beneath the helmet. “No, you couldn’t have. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t slept. You’ll get sloppy if you don’t tend to yourself, and the child needs you at your best.”

Din hung his head, abashed. Of course. He’d been foolish. 

“Come now. Your best is formidable,” said Fett. He held out a hand. “The child’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Din stared up at the older man, blinking sleep from his eyes. He trembled, thinking of the weight of Grogu nestled against him, the way his eyes crinkled, the sensation of his tiny hand cradled carefully in Din’s. 

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. He grabbed Fett’s hand, and Fett pulled him to his feet with a grunt. 

Up on his feet in the dawn-light, things seemed finally clear. He and Fett and Shand were formidable indeed, and there were others he could call on. A plan began to come to him, and with it, a faint sense of hope amidst the aching fear. He let out a long breath.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he said. “And I’ve got a plan.”

“Good to hear it, Djarin,” said Fett, and far above the treeline _Slave I_ soared into view. “Let’s go hunting.”

**Author's Note:**

> Din & Boba requested by healingdays, innitmarvelous2, and anon on tumblr :)
> 
> Partly inspired by the National song, “Baby, We’ll Be Fine:
> 
> _All night I lay on my pillow and pray  
>  For my boss to stop me in the hallway  
> Lay my head on his shoulder and say  
> “Son I’ve been hearing good things”_


End file.
